


Sleep Is Good (But Cuddles Are Good-er)

by fractalgeometry



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, it's so soft you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25403773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry
Summary: Aziraphale was standing at the counter, measuring flour into a bowl. Crowley padded up behind him and slid his arms around the angel from behind, resting his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.“Oh!” Aziraphale said, spilling some of the flour. “Hello, Crowley.”“Hi,” Crowley replied sleepily.~Soft morning hugs (and muffins). Fluff time.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 124
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Sleep Is Good (But Cuddles Are Good-er)

**Author's Note:**

> I developed the urge to write something thoroughly fluffy and gentle, and this is the result. I quite like it. It also seemed like a good thing to post after my most recent work, which was definitely more angsty.

Crowley opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, taking stock of his surroundings. There was sun coming through the curtains, so it was morning. Aziraphale was not in bed, which wasn’t too surprising, but a little disappointing all the same. The door was open a crack. There was a smell of something baking. 

He got out of bed and wandered down the hall toward the smell. In the kitchen he found Aziraphale, standing at the counter, measuring flour into a bowl. Crowley padded up behind him and slid his arms around the angel from behind, resting his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, spilling some of the flour. “Hello, Crowley.”

“Hi,” Crowley replied sleepily. 

Aziraphale dumped the contents of the measuring cup into his bowl. “Really, Crowley, look what you made me do.”

“Didn’t spill that much,” Crowley said, staying where he was. “Easy to clean.”

“I _prefer_ when I don’t spill at all,” Aziraphale said severely, but he brought his left hand up to gently cover Crowley’s where they were clasped across his chest. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re still mostly asleep, aren’t you.”

“Yup.” Crowley lifted his head to nuzzle Aziraphale’s hair. 

“Ridiculous snake,” Aziraphale said with the level of open affection that still took Crowley’s breath away. He squeezed a little tighter and hummed. 

Aziraphale sighed and turned — Crowley obligingly loosened his arms — until they were face to face. “I am _nearly_ finished here,” he said. “So if you will let go of me for a few minutes until this goes in the oven?” He smiled and leaned up to peck Crowley on the nose. “That’s it.”

Crowley grudgingly let go, crouching to peer at what was already in the oven. Some kind of mini cakes. Maybe muffins. He opened the door a crack to sniff. Raspberry.

“Leave those alone, they aren’t ready yet,” Aziraphale said without even looking in his direction. 

Crowley stuck his tongue out at Aziraphale’s back and lifted himself lightly onto the counter, where he sat, leaning against the cupboards and swinging his legs. 

Aziraphale shaped the dough he was making into a loaf — bread, then — and _thunked_ it onto a pan. Then he turned to the oven and pulled the raspberry somethings out, replaced them with the bread, and tipped them onto a cooling rack. He caught Crowley’s eye and smiled. Crowley thought he might melt.

“Don’t touch those, they’re far too hot,” Aziraphale warned, piling dishes in the sink.

As if Crowley would do such a thing.

He definitely would. He just chose not to, this morning.

Aziraphale left the dishes and came to stand in front of Crowley, nestling his waist between Crowley’s knees and curving his hands around Crowley’s lower back. 

“Hello, dear,” he said.

Crowley hummed, laying his forearms on Aziraphale’s shoulders and leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Hi,” he said again.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the closeness and the morning calm. Finally Crowley sat back and leaned to his left, snagging one of the muffins. 

“Should be cool enough now,” he said, and broke off a piece to pop in his mouth.

“You might have asked,” Aziraphale said, but he was smiling. “Is it good?”

It _was_ good, the raspberries little pops of tart in the sweetness of the bread. Crowley nodded and broke off another piece, holding it out to Aziraphale, who opened his mouth to taste it without having to let go of Crowley. He closed his eyes, chewing slowly. 

“You’re right, it is,” he said after a moment. “I ought to add a touch more blood orange next time, it’s a little faint.”

 _“Blood orange?”_ Crowley asked around a second mouthful of muffin. 

“It’s a type of orange that has red parts,” Aziraphale explained patiently. “Very pleasant flavor.” He lifted his hand to take the rest of the muffin from Crowley and took another bite. 

Crowley let him have it, dropping his now-empty hand to his leg. He enjoyed tasting Aziraphale’s cooking experiments, but rarely wanted more than a few bites. Still, when Aziraphale offered him the last bite he accepted, chewing thoughtfully. 

“Have you any plans for today?” Aziraphale asked.

“Not really,” Crowley said, catching Aziraphale’s hand where it was lying on the counter and linking their fingers together. “Think I’m still waking up. You have ideas?”

“The bread will be baking for another half hour,” Aziraphale mused. “I might like to go sit in the library and read a bit. Come with me?”

“‘Course.” Crowley hopped off the counter.

Crowley wasn’t going to read, obviously. He was, however, going to do his best impression of a snake twining around Aziraphale’s chair and onto his lap that he could without actually turning into a snake. Aziraphale was used to this, and absentmindedly curled his hand around Crowley’s ankle, or waist, or shoulder, or whatever was closest at any given time, until Crowley finally settled, half falling to the floor, half on Aziraphale’s lap, leaning against the side of the chair. 

After a while he started to doze again. He didn’t _have_ to wake up at all today, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments are my joy.


End file.
